Possibilities
by Amber SanGiovanni
Summary: Dr. House begrudgingly walks into clinic duty, and possible meets his match in a younger OC Rose. Can he resist looking further? Rated T for some swearing and what will come in later chapters. I know it's a sucky summary, but I didn't want to give too much away. Please read and review...
1. Chapter 1

**Hi everyone, Amber here, this is my first fic ever. I have been really looking forward to creating this OC Rose. She is supposed to be a Federal Agent, which I will get into later... I am really excited, so please review. Shout out to Harper Penn for giving me the patient idea.**

She walked into the clinic at PPTH with a scowl on her face. Her bright gold badge was still on her hip, but she didn't like leaving her gun in the car. Too many times had she had to fight her way out of a sticky situation because she had been forced to give up her weapon. She was petite, probably only five foot tall, she had hips, and was well muscled, but not overly so. Her stature fit her well; one wouldn't know what she was capable of until it was too late. She quickly made her way to the front desk, and the nurse noted she looked healthy, strange considering she had come to the clinic.

"Name?"

"Rosemary St. John"

The nurse handed her a patient chart to fill out. Upon returning it, she requested Doctor House be the one to see her.

"Good luck with that…you'll have to wait." Was the nurse's curt reply.

"That's fine." She replied coolly, and sat down in one of the chairs.

After three hours, she was called into exam room 2, a tall, unkempt man with a cane and a scowl matching hers barged in.

"I'm Dr. House"

"Figured, I've been waiting. I have a parasite in my brain."

"Wonderful, another genius with internet access."

"I'm afraid, for your interest, Dr. House; the title of agent on my file may be incorrect. Although I am primarily a federal agent, I also have the pleasure of having doctor in front of my name as well."

Something clicked in his head, she could see, and he realized who she was. Girl wonder, graduated from a full Harvard scholarship as a psychiatrist, managed to get her senior thesis in Mayo's medical journal, and had picked up a handful of other board certifications by the end of her residency.

"Doctor House?" she questioned, "all it is is two pills, if I could prescribe them myself I would, I've seen five other doctors, and none seem to think that fainting, dizziness, and self-noticeable personality changes are grounds for a parasite, regardless of how much I travel. I came here and requested you because I figured you'd be the only doctor in the world who might believe me. Two pills."

He pulled out his script pad and began scrawling some indiscriminate letters over it. "Dr. St. John, you may have your two pills only if you allow a CT scan first. I don't want to be doing clinic duty any more than you want to see another doctor, I take you on as a 'case' and buy myself some free time, you get on with your life. Deal?"

"Fine."

She followed him upstairs to his office, more like forced herself to trail behind him. She was used to walking fast being the difference of life and death, but she allowed herself to not out step his limping gait, and to take the elevator when she could've made the 4th floor by stairs in the half the time.

Upon entering his inner office, she immediately noticed the stares from what she assumed to be his team. And like it always did, her observational and people reading skills kicked in. she could practically hear their thoughts. At first they assumed she was a hooker, but when they saw her badge they figured House was in trouble. He then escorted her to meet the team.

"Chase, Cameron, Foreman," he said gesturing to each of his team, "this is…." He looked to her for a suitable name

"Rose." She said and sat down at the glass table.

"She's our new case. Tell the ducklings what's wrong with you." She explained what she had in the clinic, and began to make casual conversation. Upon them all realizing she was a doctor as well, they began to make more than small talk. But her mind was elsewhere. She was watching House out of the corner of her eye, she could see him wincing and gritting his teeth. He was rubbing his right leg, frozen on his feet, afraid to take the few steps to a chair in fear he wouldn't make it. It was clear that she was in his usual spot, and smoothly got up for a coffee. He sat down gratefully and popped a few pills. She rolled her eyes behind him, being able to just make out Vicodin on the bottle before he slipped it back in his pocket. The dosage on that kind of narcotic was half what he just took.

Half an hour down the road, she gladly went for her CT, and she was, not surprisingly correct about the parasite. House wrote her the script. Upon receiving a real case, the team had abruptly left House in the CT room with Rose. They made their way back to the office together, and she looked at the white board.

"Lymphoma." She mused.

House stared at her in disbelief, as did the team. She had beat House to a diagnosis, he hadn't even thought of it yet, but the second it left her lips he knew she was right.

"I-I'll go consult with Wilson." Cameron muttered and left the room.

"Well what are the rest of you waiting for? Go talk to the patient" House growled.

Rose looked at him quizzically; he returned the look with a cold hard stare with those brilliant blue eyes. Before he could tell her to leave, Wilson burst in wanting to know who diagnosed the cancer. He said that if he hadn't been looking for Lymphoma, even he would have never found it. Before House could interject, Rose stood up and introduced herself, knowing full well what shaking James Wilson's hand meant to her as an Oncologist. Much to her dismay, she got a page saying that they had a case back in Washington; she had a flight to catch.

"Good bye, and thank you Dr. House." She said as she warmly shook his hand, and much to Wilson's surprise, he shook her's just as heartily back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi there again, here's your next chapter delving more into the developing relationship of House and Rose. Did I say 'relationship'? you'd better hope so.**

"Uh… House? Who…. Ya know what, I don't wanna know." Wilson pondered as he made his way back to his office. House was wondering the same thing. Rose hadn't said much about herself. She had mentioned being a federal agent, and she was wearing a badge, but he didn't get much more than that. He'd heard of her as a brilliant doctor, and she had proved that certainly. But he was interested, intrigued even. And he had noticed that she noticed everything. His little pain episode when she gave up her seat, the team thinking she was an escort, she had beat him in a diagnosis, had diagnosed herself based on vague symptoms. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know how she thought; he was swayed by her somehow…

Rose had stayed in New Jersey for the night. She lied when she said she had a case. It was a solicitor. She had pulled out of the agency months ago, gone on an indefinite hiatus. She had been sent on a mission three years ago today. All around the world on a wild goose chase. She had been restricted from contacting her team in DC, and throughout the mission, they had convinced everyone she cared about that she was dead. They had a funeral. By the time she finally figured it out and managed to get home, her team had replaced her, and her husband was engaged again, his fiancé pregnant. She couldn't bring herself to tear their new lives apart, so she left the agency, filed for divorce, and had been working at a free clinic in Manhattan. Seeing and working with House's team had made her miss that family dynamic. Her father was her team leader, her director her best friend since their training days, her team her only family otherwise. She missed them all, craved that closeness.

"Dr. St. John? This is Dr. Cuddy, dean at PPTH, I hear you beat House the other day, impressive, I'd like to thank you."

"You're quite welcome. It was fun."

"Really? Do you think…maybe? Well I…"

"Dr. Cuddy? What are you asking?"

"I was going to offer you a job. You see House is a maniac at best, and you got to him. I don't even know what your job situation is, but I want to offer you a position as co-head of diagnostics, as House's practicing partner."

"Have you run this past him?" Rose asked, containing her excitement. "I would love it!" she gushed.

"Really? Thank god," she mused more to herself than to Rose. "He needs a leash, _I_ need a leash. Someone to tell him no, someone who can out diagnose him every once in a while. You think you're up for that?"

"I have a certain set of skills Dr. Cuddy, I know people, and I can manipulate them, practically read their minds most times; I am completely up to it. When can I interview?"

"Well, that's the problem; you'll have to interview directly with House…. Offer him your services, rather than the other way around."

"Not a problem, I'll go and speak with him tomorrow." She told the Dean, knowing she had plenty of experience with having to, well, persuade people.

The next morning, 10 am sharp, Rose strolled into House's office like she owned the place. He was about to ask about a job offer at the same time she did. He was dumbfounded.

"Dr. Cuddy offered me a position as your practicing partner last night, I am apparently supposed to interview with you or something."

"Oh, ok."

She handed him a resume which he read over. "Full scholarship to Harvard, med and premed, graduated a psychiatrist. One year internship at Mayo Clinic, where you got full oncology certs. Two years at Bethesda and the VA, got you a diagnostic and physiotherapy majors. That's extremely impressive, I've only got three. He had thought he was going to be tough, try and make her work for the job. But he gave in, he was intrigued by her, wanted to know more. So he conceded.

"You're hired. Here's the current case, go check the board for symptoms." She went, also dumbfounded, to talk with her new team. They didn't believe it either.

Eventually, she got used to the team dynamics, case after case. Figured out the office politics quickly and tried to obey them. She often consulted with Wilson on oncology cases; her specialty was transplant surgeries, which she did a handful of in the months she was there. She also took on a few psychiatry patients, mostly PTSD patients, as were her specialty working with ex-military, all those years at the FBI, and doing her residency at a VA Hospital.

Over the months, she got to know House better, but it seemed one sided. Between the psych training and the interrogation experience, she could read people. She could see how much pain he was in by a combination of his moods, number of pills, and general desperation in his eyes. She could see when he was hung over, when he was sleep deprived, and casually adjusted her snappy remarks for his benefit. But when he was just being a jerk, because he wanted to, she met his every quip, every sarcastic remark, and all his insults, with a set jaw, hard eyes and enough bite in her voice to make anyone else take a step back. She didn't take any shit from him, and he respected her for it.

She really was his practice partner, his equal in every way. She didn't mind doing most of the paperwork, as she always had the newbie at the agency do it anyhow, and she knew that late nights only caused him more pain.

That was something he pondered constantly. She knew he was in pain, and she made a conscious effort to help him in any way she could. But she had never asked about his leg, never inquired about the infarction. She was so smooth and silent about it. The way she 'accidentally' bumped into a chair to make it a few steps closer to him when he entered their office. The way she used her hips to open a door, and lingered just long enough for him to get through. How she jumped up to write on the marker board when he was having a bad day. And sometimes, if it got bad enough, he would allow her to do a differential while walking the halls, while he was trying to relieve the pain, and hook her arm through his. Normally this would've just been two people having a discussion, but she always had a strong arm, and never commented when he would allow himself to lean on it, even just a little. When he did, she would casually keep step with him, and swing her hips to allow him extra balance. It took him months before he even noticed the way she cared, the way she saw everything. And he cared that she noticed. Her presence was like Wilson's she didn't have to say or do anything, she was just there.

Rose also became one of Wilson's best friends. He would have lunch with her just as often as he would House, and most times the three ate together. They'd take turns paying for House, and even with all the crap she gave him, Wilson could see she really didn't mind.

One day, during a particularly stressful case, House had gone home early, and Rose still had paperwork to go over with him, so she invited herself to his place, takeout as as peace offering.

He had had a bad day. Had taken so much Vicodin that he almost couldn't think. He got home and plopped down on his piano bench with a glass of scotch, grateful for the music. He heard an incessant knock at the door, but kept on playing. Only a few seconds later, the door clicked and opened. Rose graciously entered with take out, a stack of files, and tired face. After what seemed like an eternity of watching his hands glide over the keys, she cleared her throat. He jumped a foot off the bench and looked at her like she was crazy.

"The lock," she explained gesturing to the door as she drew a pick set out of her pocket, "was not very difficult." She brought his Chinese on a plate and set it on a table near the piano, respecting the instrument. He kept playing this time, a jazzier song that she had never heard before, and suspected he was composing as he went. She noticed a beautiful tenor sax in the corner, and picked it up. Stroking the titanium silver, she started to glide into his soulful melody, the saxophone diving with her hands. He stopped and peered at her… a smile twinging at his lips; she stopped, and locked eyes with him, for a moment. Then his clouded over, and he couldn't stop the scream from escaping his lips. He doubled over gripping his thigh, rocking and trying not to moan. She was at his side in an instant, offering a bag in which to puke. He did, much to his dismay, and then gasped something inaudible, pointing to the book shelf.

Up high, if she backed up far enough, she could see a vial of morphine and a syringe. Like a dancer, she backed up and took a few steps forward, and lunged for the vial, grabbing it with her finger tips and landing neatly and silently on her feet. She quickly injected House and then excused herself to the bathroom, figuring he'd want to deal with the rest alone.

She returned when she couldn't hear him panting anymore, and got straight to work with the files. He wasn't sure if he wished she had stayed there to comfort him or not. Wasn't sure if he wanted her to stay the night; but she left a few hours later and didn't mention it the next morning.

It was 5am when Rose's phone rang. "St. John" she answered groggily.

"Rose, its Wilson, you capable of doing a heart transplant?"

"Yes sir!" she said enthusiastically not having done one since her residency, and ran to get ready. She reported to Wilson without even bothering to talk to House.

Consult over and scrubbed up, she entered the OR. It was routine, she cracked the guy's chest, and started to make her way precariously around the thousands of blood vessels surrounding the heart. It went well, until she started to make big incisions. It wasn't her fault, the guy was stable enough, but she plunged through, knowing that the donor heart only had a few hours left to be viable. After hour twelve, she was covered in blood, and the observation deck had filled up with doctors, waiting and watching for her to slip. She didn't.

She cleaned up after 18 hours, taking a long, hot shower in the locker room, braiding her hair back, and pulling on some scrubs House waiting for her outside the locker room.

"Case"

"Of course there is! I just got done with an 18 hour heart transplant. Everything that could've gone wrong, short of the patient dying, went wrong and then some! Case my ass!"

He looked at her, she was exhausted, hungry. "Screw it," he declared, "Let's get something to eat, and not the crappy cafeteria food, go home and clean up," he hesitated… "Let me take my partner out for a nice supper and a drink."

"Like a date?" she asked, a sudden glow coming to her face.

He had been wondering the same thing himself, and decided to go for it. "A date." He said wondering how she'd react. "I'll come get you at 8?"

She sped up her pace, pulling away from him in the hall, and took the stairs down. She needed to think. A date with Doctor Gregory House. She was fascinated by him, cared about him, as a friend, but did she like him like that? He was older, six or seven years didn't really make a difference anymore. He was certainly a baggage case, but she had always loved to help and fix people, that's why she'd become a doctor. She didn't know what would come of this, and she was certain she wasn't going to allow him to take her home tonight, she wanted a real relationship if she was going to get one. Try telling House that she mused, he prefers hookers over human contact anyhow. It was worth a shot, even if all it was was supper, and she certainly needed the drink.

**Thanks for reading, I know it was kind of slow moving, but the next chapter should be up for tomorrow or the next day and that will be interesting. I 3 reviews!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Ok, the date...this chapter is going to be a little more boring than you're expecting, (at least I think it is) but I wanted to get this up because I'm trying to get to the really good stuff I already have written. Bear with me on this, I'm working really hard on Chapter 4, I want to have it up tonight. **

"HEY ROOOOOOSSEE!" House hollered from the ground outside her apartment. She rolled her eyes and loocked up, then went downstairs to meet him. He had brought his bike. Of course….

"Oh no, don't be a gentleman and come upstairs, just yell from the street!" she teased over the roar of the engine.

"Just get on!" he shouted as he handed her a helmet. She rolled her hair up under it and climbed on behind him, hands around his waist. He was a reckless driver, but she was used to it. It took about twenty minutes to get to the restaurant. A decent Italian place to any regular Joe, a pizza joint to an Italian. She was about as Italian as it got, short of the Mafiosi that is. She suppressed a frown. It was comparable to an Olive Garden and way over priced she was sure. A good Italian joint was either run by all mobsters, or you had to speak Italian to get a table. This was neither.

The walked in and the hostess seated them.

"Gratzi" Rose trilled as the hostess left.

"Huh?"

"Never mind" she sighed, proving her point.

Rose looked at the menu. She went with Raviolis and a glass of the house blend wine. To be safe. House ordered spaghetti, very original. They got their food a short time later, after making some small talk. She drank half the wine before daring to taste the ravs. They were awful. She peered at House. He wasn't particularly enjoying the meal, but apparently Rose's pretending was too convincing.

"How's your pasta?" she asked hoping he'd say it was terrible.

"Huh, what? Fine I guess. You?"

"You don't really like it do you?"

"No, but I know you enjoy Italian food, how's yours?"

"No better than yours. I have an idea. You sober enough to drive?" she asked, knowing the answer was no. She'd actually topped House by almost a full glass, but she could hold her liquor better than he, and he was a professional.

"I guess…"

"So that's a no… its fine, you can ride on the back then." She smirked, knowing he wouldn't much like that.

"You've drank more than I have!" he exclaimed.

"Yes, but I'm better at it, if you can believe that. I could drink three times what I already have and still not appear even remotely drunk. Check!" she signaled to the waitress.

House paid for a change, even though _he_ had asked_ her_ out she figured, at most, they'd go dutch.

"Whatdya have in mind?"

"Keys."

"Huh?"

"Keys. You said you were too drunk to drive, and that's without having to balance another person, you think I got through life without learning to ride a motorcycle? Hand 'em over." He begrudgingly complied. She climbed on the front this time, and he got on behind her. They drove for miles until she pulled into a bad looking neighborhood and came to a stop outside of a worn down, graffitied bodega.

"Where the hell are we?" House demanded.

"Shhhh! Keep your voice down, and just trust me on this." Had it been daytime, she would have told him to wait outside the shop. But considering the time of night, she would rather have him with her than alone. Besides she was carrying. "I'm warning you, keep your mouth shut in here."

"Ciao!" she exclaimed graciously as she strolled in like she owned the place. A few obviously mob men looked at her, realized who she was, and stepped aside. They weren't so gracious for House.

"Sta bene." She called over her shoulder. He's fine. She casually walked to the counter, knowing exactly what she wanted. "Due bottiglie di vino della casa, un chilo di pasta, e tre di pomodori, grazie." Two bottles of the house wine, a pound of pasta, and three of tomatoes, thanks. The owner got to work with her order, as she was a regular paying customer and often payed extra for the best. The bodega was small, and nestled in a Mafiosi neighborhood. There was one in every city she'd lived in; trick was finding it. It was filled with amazing goods straight from Italy, smuggled more like. The mobsters liked their home cooking, and so did Rose. She paid with the extra euros she'd kept from her last trip and left.

"Ma'am" the mobsters tipped their hats as she exited, House in tow.

Once outside, House demanded, "What the hell was that?"

She gave him a look that could silence a banshee. Once safely out of the neighborhood and back at her place, she parked the bike, and they went upstairs. Her apartment was nice, painted and decorated with care, and obviously lived in, but it was lonely, too big for one. House guessed that she bought it for the beautiful kitchen .

"That," she said answering his question from earlier, "was a mafia run grocery store. The mobsters smuggle in fresh produce and wine straight from Italy, they like their food, and so do I. you have to speak Italian to order, and the 'business man' has to approve of you. I've got an uncle somewhere down the line who used to be big in Vegas. I suppose you figured out why you should keep your mouth shut."

"Yep, I got that."

"Good." She said entering the kitchen. "You'll get your Italian meal now." She swung her hips wide as she walked into the kitchen, knowing he was watching.

She cooked her own red sauce with the tomatoes and wine, House sat by and watched, mesmerized with her grace and the ease in which she cooked, like she'd done it a million times. It was natural to her, and even though he was a great cook, he preferred the science aspect of it; she was traditional, for the food.

"Manja!" she called, balancing a huge tray of food, a bottle of wine under one arm, and place settings on a tray in the other. She took quick, straight steps, rolled her heels and swung her hips to keep her shoulders straight and still. She was able to put everything down on the table without spilling, and pulled a corkscrew out of her back pocket to pour the wine.

"Wow, and I thought the restaurant smelt good." He smiled this goofy wide smile that made her laugh and hand him a glass of deep red wine. He took a sip and nearly spit it on her. "My god! That's the best wine I've ever had!"

"Ya, and that's not even the best I can get, but the really good stuff you have to special order a month in advance. Now, we've only got a bottle and a half, so don't drink too fast!" She laughed as she sat down, the heart transplant almost forgotten. First date small talk ensued.

"So, you speak Italian?"

"And Spanish, Russian, Vietnamese, French, Arabic, and I'm fluent in braille and ASL, I also speak bits and pieces of German and an assortment of Middle Eastern languages. It's really easier to tell you which I don't speak. You?"

"English, Spanish, Russian, and Mandarin."

"Impressive, for a doctor." She winked and grinned. They got to talking about work after that, and then med school. He asked about her senior thesis.

"Ah, that. It was psych related, because I wanted the certs right out of college. It was mainly about the relationship between human contact and the degrees of it, and emotions and physical pain. I started with the basic patient psychiatrist relationship, strangers, moved into getting to know the doc, and trusting, and then opening up to someone you already know, and if it makes a difference to be in a romantic relationship. Then delved into the difference of that therapy and emotional and physical pain; I also looked into the difference between a professional office and lounging on the couch to talk. It was very long and detailed. I'm surprised you hadn't read it, it made the cover of Mayo's the year I graduated."

"Oh I read it; I just wanted to know where you got the idea."

"PTSD patients. I always got farther with those that I was close with, my dad and his friends mostly. But my official patients usually took longer to open up.

"Hmmm, mmm, oh, yum." He muttered as he tried to change the subject and eat at the same time. Rose thought back on the evening, he hadn't taken a single pill since he'd been with her. She also considered how much the both of them had been drinking. He would barely be able to walk a straight line by the end of the bottle. She would, she really didn't get drunk, but on the off chance she was pulled over, she wasn't gonna screw her reputation for a stupid dui. He clearly wasn't thinking the same thing, as he topped of both their glasses, again.

Later into the night, they got a phone call at the same time. Apparently, they had a patient who couldn't wait till morning. By now, Rose had cleaned up, done the dishes, and put on some Dean Martin. House had swept her into a waltz after they ignored their phones. It wasn't the best considering his leg, but she was good enough for the two of them, he just had to lead. They dipped at the end of That's Amore, and his lips brushed hers as their phones rang again.

"WHAT!?" they both answered, not sure of how to react to what just happened.

"Case, symptoms are…" one of the ducklings told each of them and started to spew symptoms.

"Hold up, hold up, I'll be there in ten." They both said in unison and hung up. Looking at each other, Rose grabbed her jacket and keys and walked down to her car. She drove.

"House…" she began over their short car ride, but cut off. A few minutes passed.

"About that…" he said rubbing his neck, he had felt something with Rose, something he hadn't since Stacy, but he knew she was just giving into the night, the wine, the music. The same thing in reverse was running through her head. He had probably just been drunk, but what if he hadn't. She liked the idea.

**OK again sorry for the slow chapter and the blabbing and descriptions, still trying to cover my bases. This particular case is going to be stressful on both House and Rose, so wait for some strong arguments. Not only has House met his match in medicine, but in sarcastic comebacks as well. She's Italian! **

**Please Review! I love suggestions, and I don't know what event is finally going to bring them together, should I go with an AU twist and say where Cuddy started to date House is what happens or not? reviews, comments, criticism. love love love Next chapter up tonight I hope.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello there, sorry for the broken promise of two chapters a few days back, band practice till 9:15 really slows stuff down. This chapter is a little shorter than they have been, but fear not because it's good (or at least so I think) I am really proud of this and I hope you find it good even if I changed the plot line a little bit. I had to weasel Rose in there somehow, and given her back round as a fed, this seemed like the best way. And to my reviewers, thanks a ton! I wish I could message back those guests, so that's especially for you. Also to the few who say they think it's unrealistic Rose being a brilliant doctor. Ya, it probably is, I agree, but keep in mind, realistic doesn't meet House's standards. **

House came in late, again. Rose had already done yesterdays paper work and looked through all today's cases. But she couldn't take one just yet. The last time she hadn't consulted House, even though she'd accepted the interesting one, they'd argued for days. He strolled in casually around ten thirty, uncaring and uninterested.

"What part of the phrase 'nine to five' don't you understand? The nine part or the five part?" Rose quipped without looking up from the file.

"Already got a case." He informed, dismissing her question and writing symptoms on the board. Before she could argue, another man entered the DDX, she vaguely recognized him and could tell immediately he was conceal carrying, and not very well. Her agent senses kicked in, but for all she knew he could be a cop, so she held her tongue.

Standing up protectively, she asked, "Can I help you?"

"Last month you treated my wife. She died at your hands, Dr. House." he accused stepping around her. A shocked House clearly recognized the man more than she did.

"I didn't kill..." he began, but never finished. Rose lunged at the man as he fired, the bullet grazing her shoulder and deflecting just enough to miss House's heart by inches. On the ground in a momentary second of pain, she lunged again, and instead of the head, he was shot a second time in the neck.

The team sat there in awe.

"What the HELL are you waiting for?! Call security and get me an OR STAT!"

"Uh ya ok..." They scrambled. Rose pushed hard on House's wounds. The surgery would be simple, she'd removed dozens of bullets over her career, mostly in extremely inadequate circumstances. The trick would be getting him to the OR. He was bleeding heavily, and completely unstable. She wasn't sure if she would dare move him. As close as they were to a brilliant operating room though, she didn't want to do the surgery here, on the floor.

Nurses rushed in and helped her move House to the hospital bed and to the OR. Just as she was about to scrub up, House called to her.

"Rose..." he whispered barely audibly. She moved closer to him and grabbed his hand. "I want Ketamine." Ketamine, a drug that, in place of anesthesia would confuse pain receptors in his brain and possibly block out his chronic leg pain. Without the pain he would have relatively normal function, he could exercise properly and build up muscle in his leg. Even if it didn't last forever, the increased strength would reduce pain even when the drug wore off.

"Tell the anesthesiologist to use Ketamine!" she shouted from the scrub room.

"What why?" the nurse shouted back.

"We don't have time to argue," she directed at the anesthesiologist, "just do it." He did.

As soon as House was out, she got to work with the bullet in his neck. It was relatively intact, the only hard part was closing up the carotid artery. Then she cut into his gut. There was no bullet, and no exit wound.

"Get me the gun." she ordered to no one in particular.

"What?"

"The gun! I need to see the gun that shot the patient, the cops should have it, get it, stat!"

"Yes'm" one of the nurses muttered as she dashed out of the room. Rose also requested a portable X-ray machine, the only one in the hospital. It was currently in use.

When the nurse came back with a cop with the gun, she unloaded and inspected the bullets. They were hollow points, just like she suspected. Hollow point, meaning that the bullet would have shattered on impact. The tips would have turned into claws and the inside would have broken apart and turned into shrapnel. The x ray machine made it there in the nick of time. She scanned his abdomen, and saw exactly what she didn't want to.

"Get Chase in here."

The cop, still standing there, not sure of where to go, chimed in, "Doctor Chase is being questioned."

"I don't care. The patient needs him more than the investigation does right now, unless of course you'd like to investigate murder rather than a shooting."

A few minutes later, Chase rushed in. He looked at the x ray and swore.

"Is that all bullet?"

"Yep. You ready?" they got to work, and after five hours, and three more x rays later, they were satisfied and closed him up. They both went to the locker rooms and showered, then Rose went to House's room, wanting to talk to his anesthesiologist.

"Hows he doing?" she asked the nurse

"Fine, Dr. Ryan said he should come out of it in a few hours.

" I want to be there when he does, page me when he starts to wake up if I'm not already here. I have police to talk with, I'm sure. She went and gave the generic witness statement, and denied knowing anything about a federal agent of the same name. She didn't want to go into it, she had more important things to deal with. A few hours later the nurse paged her. She ran to House's room and took his hand as she sat down. He woke up bleary eyed and took a few minuted to orient himself.

The first words out of his mouth were, "Your arm?!" she had forgotten about the graze, but the jog across the hospital had sent her heart pumping and had made it bleed again.

"Oh, ya..." she got a small bandage from the cart in the room and taped it on, not even caring what it looked like. She went back to House's bedside. Checked his vitals manually, even though the machines kept perfect track, and asked how he was feeling.

"Like I just got shot."

"You don't get to make that comparison, you haven't been shot before."

"Fine then." he lightly touched his abdomen. Then tried to sit up to remove the bandages.

"Ahh ah ah ah ah!" Rose stopped him and pulled the bandage off herself. There were tiny incisions all over the place, some deeper than others, and a few stitches in each one.

"What the hell? Who did the surgery? Edward Scissorhands?"

"No, I did, with Chase's help." She then explained the concept of a hollow point bullet.

"So how do you feel otherwise?" she pressed, wanting to know if the Ketamine had worked.

"Fine, no pain other than the surgery area, and that's nor..." his hand automatically snapped to his leg.

"It's still there, don't worry." He'd never told her about the infarction, and she'd never asked, but she'd gotten enough from Wilson, Cuddy, and the team to know what had happened with Stacy.

He looked at her in disbelief, and to both their surprise a tear glistened in the corner of his eye.

"Thank you." he whispered, still in awe.

"I'll get you something to eat." she awkwardly excused herself. Seeing him so happy, she'd had a sudden surge of emotion. She had seen a different side of Gregory House for a teeny second, and she loved it.

Upon return, Wilson was visiting as well. "Oh, sorry Wilson, if I'd known you'd be here..."

"Its fine, I was just leaving" he abruptly cut her off.

"Whats his problem?" she asked House handing him a tray and helping him sit up so he wouldn't tear his stitches.

"I told him to leave when you got back, I want to talk with you." She sat silently, not knowing how to respond.

"You've got PT certs right?" God, that was the question she'd been wanting him to ask since the day they met.

"Yep."

"Do you think...? Well you see I... If the Ketamine is going to work, I'll be needing one, I was wondering if... if you'd do it?" he finally managed to squeeze out.

"Of course. As soon as your a little more free to move, without those stitches, we'll get started."

"No, I want to start now."

"House, if I pop my own stitch..."

"The leg isn't miraculously better now, there's just no pain. There's still a fist sized hole in my thigh, if I lay here without moving for a week, I'm afraid of what will happen to the remaining muscle."

"You have a point. I'll need to see your file. Is it downstairs?"

"Should be."

"Ok, Lemme go get it. Be right back."

She went and fetched his file, surprisingly under his real name. She came back up and closed the blinds. She sat in silence for a few minutes, skimming over the details of his infarction. The sloppiness in not diagnosing it... She helped him lay back down and pulled the covers off. She couldn't help but suck in a small breath, what had they done? Hired a butcher? She tried not to gape at the mangled flesh covering the crater in his right leg. No wonder he was always in so much pain, she thought if she'd only knew... He must have caught her staring, because he ducked his head in shame, then jerked it right back up when it yanked on the stitches in his neck.

She looked at him, and put one hand around his ankle and one on his knee, then simply bent his leg and straightened it a few inches above the bed and told him to hold it there. She couldn't believe how much it shook, and how much effort it took, even pain free, for him to support his leg. It was miraculous he could walk. What it took to do simple bed exercises, for him, ended up being more ab work than anything, and his stomach needed to not strain right now. She decided it would be less hazardous if she were to just get him up and walking.

Rose helped him sit up, and then turn and get his feet on the floor without too much twisting, and then to stand up. At the first, the leg seemed to not want to support him, and he grabbed her shoulder for support, reminding her of the graze once again. She slipped her arm around his waist and took a few slow steps forward. Around the room at first, and then, when he was comfortable, he switched to just holding her arm for security and advancing down the halls.

A janitor had been mopping, and apparently not using the sign, House and Rose's feet slid out from under them. She took great care not to hurt him as he went down, and she was at his side immediately. He had popped ten stitches by the looks of the blood staining his shirt, and they had been sore ones too. He was biting his lip.

"You're ok," she reassured him, glaring at the custodian and calling for a wheel chair, "Its just a few stitches." They got back to the room and into bed, then she went to fix the stitches. He winced a little at some of the sore spots, but otherwise was perfectly still.

Rose was about to leave, thinking he'd protest if she stayed. But much to her surprise and enjoyment he asked her to.

"Rose?" he questioned almost scared like, "Will you stay?"  
"Of course I will." she replied gently, and without even really thinking about it, ran a hand over his hair and lightly kissed his forehead, "Of course I will."

She was having trouble falling asleep in the uncomfortable recliner, but she knew he was sound asleep and needed it. She was just dozing off in an extremely awkward position when he reached for her hand. She took his and looked in to his deep blue eyes, for the first time she had ever seen them clear and painless.

"Lay with me." he told her.

"House... I'll hurt you or something!"

"No you wont," he whispered, giving her hand a slight tug, she complied, and layed next to him, her head on his chest and his hands around her waist. He tightened his grip a little bit before taking a deep breath and relaxing under her. It was only then she allowed herself to relax and sleep, sleep more soundly than she had since she was forced to leave her husband that faithful night, and that was how Wilson, the team, and the nurse who came to check House's vitals found them in the morning.

**Well, I hope you enjoyed that. I wanted their romance to be simple and meaningful, at least at first which may be a little OOC for House, but ya know... I just didn't want to jump right to them sleeping together, and not like this scene lol. I love you all, please review, and leave any suggestions for the next chapter and how to advance their relationship even farther. Should I go with the PT angle or just skip to where the pain comes back? (Cane and Able I believe the epi is called)**

**Thanks, Amber**


	5. Chapter 5

**OK, I promise, this will be the last shorter doesn't really go anywhere chapter. I would be thinking by now that this is dumb and lets move on if I were a reader as opposed to a writer, so I am trying to move on as quickly as possible. Bear with me on this one, and I can promise the next chapter will be exciting.**

Rose woke up, but stayed absolutely still. She knew she was still laying with House, and his arms were around her. She didn't want to wake him, or hurt him for that matter. She had the slightest feeling that someone was watching her. When she opened her eyes, in the door way was Wilson and Cameron, looking as if there was a pile of puppies in front of them. Foreman and the nurse that had come to make rounds looking disgusted, and Chase, somewhere in between. She let go of House's hand and moved his arm off her waist, then gently sat and stood up without so much as shifting the bed. She assured the nurse she'd do the necessary vital check, smiled at Wilson, and gave the team a glance that dared them to disturb their boss. She walked down to the locker room with Wilson.  
"So..." he asked excitedly, "How is he?"  
"Fine, the Ketamine seems to have worked, and he wants to start full PT." She mentioned nothing about how they'd slept, and neither did Wilson. She had wanted to be out of the room before House woke up. She wasn't sure if him asking her to stay and to lay with him was drug induced, or if he had genuinely meant it. She wanted to give him the chance to not have to be embarrassed. Honestly though, even if she had been there for his moral support, she hadn't felt more secure and cared about in a man's arms since the last time she'd been with her ex husband. It had been a few years, yes she'd had sex in that time, but she hadn't had a real connection. She hadn't felt content with another person enough to not even need sex, not in a long time.  
After changing into a new pair of scrubs, brushing her teeth and tying up her hair, she went to talk to the head of the rehab department. She wanted to see if she could get a physio room for her and House to use later, if he was up to it. There was one, and she scheduled an hour at 2 o'clock for her and House alone. Usually it could be scheduled that two or even three patients who needed to use different sets of specific equipment could be scheduled at the same time, but she knew House wouldn't want anyone to see his first real session, and she wasn't sure what she would specifically do yet.  
Then she went down to the cafeteria to get breakfast for her and House. She offered for Wilson, who was in line at the same time, to come eat with them. He politely refused saying he had work to do, but she had a hunch House had instructed him to stay away.  
When she got back to the room, House was awake and looking ashamed. She realized that he thought she hadn't stayed the night, that she'd left after he fell asleep. He had woken up alone, and that was exactly the opposite of what he'd wanted. She made a mental note to be there when he woke up tomorrow.  
"I was here all night," she reassured him, "I went downstairs to change and get some food. How do you feel?"  
He mentally inspected her. She wouldn't be wearing scrubs if she had gone home, and her hair had an oily buildup. He decided she wasn't lying to him, and visibly relaxed.

"Ok, minimal pain. Tired."

"Good, and I'm sure. In my experience, your body doesn't like it too much when a foreign metal object forces it's way in and then gets cut out. Eat." she added, showing him the food."

House groaned when he sat up, having momentarily forgotten about the stitches when he smelt the pancakes. She giggled and have him the food; he ate quickly and then picked off the side of her plate. After a few pieces of bacon, she smacked his hand away and he gave her a pouty face, to which she laughed again and finished quickly.  
After breakfast, she checked his vitals and changed the bandages on his neck and abdomen. The stitches looked good and the surgery areas were healing nicely. He'd have one hell of a spiderweb scar on his stomach for a while though.

As much as she wanted to, Rose knew she couldn't sit and talk with House all day. The team had a case, and if she didn't go and help soon, they'd come to House for help. He needed all the rest he could get. So she told House she had work to do and to try and get some sleep. He lied down, and smiled at her. She kissed his forehead and left for the DDX.

"Whatcha got?" she asked walking into the differential, all business. She was handed a file, which she skimmed and stood up to write on the empty board.

"Male, late forties, severe cough and minor fever persisting for a week, stiff neck."

"Meningitis." Chase suggested, exactly what she had been thinking.

"Good, go test, and if so, alert Cuddy." She took the file, as well as a pile of paperwork, House's patient files and a new PT file off her desk and went back into the DDX to get a cup of tea. Foreman was last in the room.

"Keep me updated electronically, page me if you need help, and under no circumstances are you to mention this to House, am I clear?"

"Yes, how is he?"

"Good, the surgery is healing nicely, he should be able to go home in a few days." She left the DDX, heading back to House's room. She sat down at the meager table with her laptop and pile of files. He looked up curiously.

"Case?"

"Nope," she answered evenly, not even bothering to look up, "departmental paperwork."

"Ah," he grinned, "I'd offer to help, but in my current condition..." he teased.

"Bullshit!" she grinned back, "You wouldn't offer to help if I'd been the one shot and you were superman!" He looked at her with puppy dog eyes, she rolled hers and added, "I don't mind doing it you know, newbie partners and probies always did the paperwork at the agency, I respect the unwritten chain of authority."

"Well that's a first, a fellow who doesn't mind doing my paperwork."

"Partner, which makes it my paperwork too, and perhaps if you weren't such a jackass to everyone, they would be more tolerant of you."

"Probably, that doesn't change much."

"I didn't expect it to, just thought you should know." She paused, "By the way, I scheduled a physio room for 2pm, if your up to it."

He looked surprised, then unsure, then back to the generic House stare. "Ya, ok."

She thought about making a snide comment about how enthusiastic he sounded, but she knew this was a sensitive subject with him, and she left it alone. Silence enveloped the room. House was trying to read a book, but he didn't have his glasses, and it was clearly not an easy task. He eventually put it down and rubbed his temples. Rose was trying to work but she couldn't help her mind from wandering, to him.

Last night had been so simple, so caring, and so had the small gestures that had been made today. She kissed his forehead before she left the room, he had held her hand while they watched TV. Hell, he had to trust her entirely in about an hour. She loved that he was different with her. Not so gruff and demeaning, and certainly not as rude, although she believed that was partially because she could give it right back. House was always House, but with her, he was just a little easier to take. Like someone sanded away the rough edges. Thinking back, she wasn't the only one who noticed either. The team treated her like a teachers pet, somewhere suspended between colleague and boss. Rose thought about how it felt to be with another person and feel content. Not have to say or do anything, not having to even touch, and to still feel a connection, to still, well, love them. The kind of relationship where a night talking and laying in each others arms means more than sex, and where sex is a way to let go, to indulge, rather than be the root of the relationship. She craved that feeling, and could sense it even now, in this tiny room, a bond, love.

**Thanks to all of you who made suggestions and reviewed, keep it up! The next chapter will involve the first physio session, the first of many-as I like to call them- confession scenes, and an advance in their relationship! It and hopefully at least two more will be up by this time tomorrow. Thanks, I luv you all, please review.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hello again, this chapter involves some phsyio and a 'confession scene' which are basically long and deep talks that I will continue to write if you like them. Also, I'm not a doctor, so any medical mistakes you see please feel free to correct me on them. I don't know much, but it sounded good lol. Enjoy.**

Two o'clock rolled around, and Rose helped House out of bed and into a wheel chair. They made their way slowly through the halls of the general population, and upstairs for physio. When they got there, she had him sit and do some simple leg lifts. After a few minutes, they moved to some more generic exercises. But for all of it, his leg was either too weak, or it interfered with his stitches. What she really wanted to do was get him in the water. His leg would still have to work, but it wouldn't have to support him at the same time. However, he couldn't swim until the stitches were out.

"I'd like to do a strength test," she explained as she strapped his leg elastically to a pole, "just extend your leg as far as it will go and hold." he couldn't get past the leeway of the band. Every time he'd try an exercise, he would wince, as if in pain. She wasn't sure if he was remembering past experiences or if the pain was psychological.

"Does this hurt?" she asked during some endurance activity.

"No," he replied through gritted teeth, "at least not like it used to, it's... it's just hard."

"Don't worry about it, ok? If you could do all of this, there would be no point in it. stitches I don't expect you to be able to do all of it yet. We're only doing this until the are out, so they muscle doesn't atrophy. After wards, we're gonna try water therapy ok? Don't worry about it.

With his head down in shame, he said, defeated, "ok..." keeping his eyes averted and sheepish, "can we be done now?"

"Ya, were finished." They started to make their way back to the room. "You did really good you know."

"Uh-huh."

"Hey," she said stopping in the middle of the hall and touching his cheek, "look at me." He looked up, his eyes filled with defeat. "This is going to take time, you said it yourself, no pain doesn't miraculously fix things, it just makes it easier to try. It's going to get stronger, it's just going to take time, and I'm going to be here for you, through all of it."

He blinked at her with those huge blue eyes of his, and then put his hand on her cheek too. "I know." he murmured and lightly brushed his lips against hers. "Thank you."

She returned the kiss, gently, and kept pushing the wheel chair to his room.

`Rose was exhausted, the week's stress and paperwork load catching up to her, plus the case the team had asked her about earlier wasn't getting any better. It wasn't meningitis, or cancer, or lupus, or a brain tumor. And now he had multi-system failure. Rose laid down next to House on the bed and half-dozed for an hour or so. After a while, she heard him turn off the TV and play with her hair against his chest. She sighed eventually and sat up. His arm wrapped around her hips and pulled her back down to the bed as she tried to leave.

"Stay here."

"I have work to do, Wilson needs a consult, I have regular patients in psych downstairs, and still tons of paperwork."

"Ugh, so?"

"I'll make you a deal," she said turning around with a devious look in her eye, "You give me three hours and I'll give you a case."

His eyes lit up. "You've got a case?"

"Haha, yep. I'll let you in on it if I can have three hours."

"Two."

"Three and I'll take you out to dinner tonight. Like out out, to a restaurant."

"Three and a half if you cook."

"Deal!" she said, and stuck out her hand to shake. House immediately grabbed it and pulled her in to kiss her. She melted. That was the sweetest thing she'd ever seen him do, and she left with a new found bounce in her step.

The psych work was routine, the paperwork annoying, it was the oncology consult that was interesting.

Wilson had wanted to talk to her about House, he didn't actually have a patient for Rose to look at. When she got to his office, he told her to sit down.

"So..." he asked tentatively, "Hows it going with House."

She smiled in spite of herself, remembering the kiss. "Great, the PT is hard, I want to get him into water therapy, but I cant yet with the stitches. I read his chart and everything, It's really a miracle he can even walk you know."

"Trust me I know, after Stacy..." he trailed off, then his eyes got real wide. "He let you _see_ it?"

"His leg? Yes, I saw it... god Wilson, what'd they do? Hire a butcher?"

"I don't know, Rose, I really don't." he muttered angrily. "I wasn't here, I was at a conference, by the time I got back, it had already been done. I, I was so mad at Stacy for the longest time.

"How did House react to that anyhow? I cant imagine how angry he must've been."

"No, he, he wasn't really all that angry. He was terrified and sad at first, knowing how bad the recovery would be, but he forgave her. He loved her, he didn't have a choice."

"Wait! I thought he broke up with her after...what?"

Wilson gritted his teeth, a new found darkness in his eyes. "No." he finally said after a while, "she left him because, and I quote, 'he is too difficult. He cant do anything for himself, and when he's not ignoring me, he's screaming at me. I cant deal with someone who is so dependent and so _mean_.'"

Rose sat in shock, mouth agape.

"Keep in mind," Wilson continued, "he couldn't walk, couldn't move without debilitating pain, and he didn't open his mouth a whole lot because he didn't want to puke on her. He was rude because he was in pain. So much pain, Rose, I couldn't even bear to watch sometimes. The night she left, he called me, inconsolable, crying, on the floor, about to go into cardiac arrest because of the pain he was in. He had managed to stand up and take a step after her when she ran out, that's how much he loved her. She left him because she couldn't face what she'd done, how it destroyed him. And she blamed him for all of it."

Rose felt a knot in her stomach at that vivid detail. "My god." she finally managed to whisper.

Wilson reached out and touched her hand. "I know you've gotten close to him in the past few days, but you have to be sure this is what you want."

"What?"

"You have to be sure. You can't just decide it's too hard and bail. The last time he opened up to someone, it back fired, he cant take his heart being shredded like that again. Your either all in and dedicated, good and bad, or your not there at all. Got it?"

"I'm sure Wilson. I promise, I won't hurt him. And it's really sweet you looking out for him like that." she squeezed him hand. "got real work to do now."

After two and a half hours of paper work and office crap, she went back to House, case in hand.

"Ok, here's how were going to do it, I'm going to give you information in the order we got it, and then test results when you request the test. I'll build it up for you in time lapse, and hopefully you get farther than we have."

"Ooo, the whole puzzle," he mused, "hit me."

"Ok, he came in with persistent flu like symptoms and a stiff neck."

"Meningitis."

"Nope, tested for it." She said handing him the lab to add to his file.

"Later, he developed an odd protein in his urine, and kidney function began depleting, we started him on dialysis."

"Cancer."

"Nope, it was suggested, but I said _additional_ protein and kidney failure, not _missing_ protein."

"Lupus."

"We were so sure of that, we treated before the labs were in, and still we were wrong." she said disdainfully, handing some more labs and the like. "then he started hallucinating..."

"Side effect of the Lupus treatment." he cut her off, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Not when the patient also seizes."

"Hmmm, brain tumor?" A clear CT scan was added to Houses file.

"Come on wonder boy!" she half teased- half begged. "Some random and extremely rare disease that barely fits the symptoms, stat!"

"Did you do an LP, check for infection? How bout a generic blood panel and urine screening? Does medical decency fall apart when I'm not there?"

"Recall, I said you only got labs when you asked for them, did you ask for the blood panels and urine screens? No, besides they were clean except for the one with the weird protein."

"What protein?" she handed him some more labs which he studied intently.

"I dunno, the lab didn't seem to recognize it, all I can tell you is that it's protein, and now his liver and lungs are shutting down."

"Cancer."

"What part of _no_ don't you get?"

"I DON'T KNOW! But this guys got less than twenty four hours to live and we can't find what the _hell_ is wrong with him so maybe you should stop being a _stubborn bitch_ and leave me to think!"

An outburst like that was normal from House, sometimes he absolutely hated having someone there who was indefinitely as smart as himself, and therefore had grounds to challenge everything he said. Normally she would have met his snarkyness with something equally as rude and demeaning, but throughout the week, she had gotten use to his underlying tenderness, and that outburst really hit home.

She looked away from him, too ashamed to face him, but too defiant to leave the room. He reached out to touch her face like she had earlier, but she jerked away from his rough hands.

"Rose..." he said dismayed.

"Just leave it alone!" she came back meeting his gaze. "Do you have a diagnosis or not?"

He spit out some lengthy medical term that she immediately agreed with and ran out to go and tell the team. He was left with his thoughts.

This week had been great, Rose was a beautiful woman, he cared about her, he loved the way she fit into his life. Not even entirely physically either. She complemented him, he was gruff and stubborn. Sure, she had her thorns and could hold her own, but for the most part, she was just a graceful and delicate flower, so delicate, in fact, she was almost forbidden. He was afraid of himself. He'd ruined so many flowers like her. He was a bastard, and couldn't understand how she could care about him like it seemed she did. He craved her closeness, the way she fit in. They hadn't slept together, but just being in the same bed, with her next to him was enough to satisfy anyone. He needed her to be there, and even in the few hours she'd been working he had felt empty. She seemed made for him, she was strong where he needed her, and soft where he didn't. She knew how he operated, and made sure he didn't self destruct. She was perfect, House concluded, he loved her.

Rose was also left alone to think in the DDX after the team had ran off to cure their patient. But her thoughts were breathtakingly different.

What an _ass_, she thought. He had been so sweet to her this week, but for what, for saving his life? To get himself laid? She didn't understand how he could be so different so suddenly. She knew he put his all into the cases, and really, yelling like that wasn't too different. But It felt like he had been holding in little sarcastic and rude remarks all week, and he had just exploded then. Like he had been faking the tenderness she had grown to love. She was dreading dinner with him tonight. An hour ago, she had been so excited, she had already finagled a medical reason to let him leave the hospital, but now she hated having to spend the evening seeing his hard, ice cold eyes and wondering where those soft, warm ones that he'd had when he kissed her earlier had gone. She thought they had been so good together, that she was perfect for him, that she complemented him, but he was pretending, he had an agenda. But what else was new. Now, she was as bitter towards him as ever, and she realized nothing had ever changed, for a while though, she had thought she loved him.

"Get dressed." she commanded, tossing a pile of clothes at House.

"Rose..."

"Do you want supper or not? Just get dressed."

"No."

"Fine, then I'll go get something myself, and go home for the night."

"Rose..." she was about to cut him off again, but he pushed on, not letting her. "I'm sorry, that was wrong of me to say, I just... I just..."

"You _just _what? Had been too nice to me all week and couldn't keep up your charade up anymore? You _just_ had to let all the sarcastic and downright mean things you've thought about me all week out in one? Because I thought maybe you _just_ might have cared about me, but who am I to think the mighty House doesn't have an alternate agenda every time he's anything less than an ass to anyone." She was so angry, she couldn't stop herself from saying what she did next, and she regretted it immediately. "Its a wonder Stacy managed to stay with you as long as she did. If you were anything like this then, god, I don't think I would've stayed!"

He doubled over as if she had really punched him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He knew Rose had been an expert interrogator in her agent days, but he hadn't realized how powerful she could twist words to be.

"Oh my god House," she fell next to him on the bed and started rubbing his back desperately, "I didn't mean that," she was crying now, real tears, she was appalled with what she had just done. What she had promised Wilson a few hours ago she wouldn't do. "Oh god House, I'm sorry, I can't believe... I did... I don't know why I said that... I..." she stopped and he looked at her. She could see more pain behind his eyes than ever before, more than when his leg hurt. She couldn't bear what she'd done, she got up to leave, and he stopped her.

"No, I'm sorry." he rasped as she reached the door. "I provoked that, I deserved it."

She stopped crying, and seemed to get angry. "I... I... no, you didn't. I... feel terrible. And this isn't helping. I feel like a kid trying to quickly apologize to their little sibling for hitting them so they wont tell mom. I... I am sorry." she looked down defeated. He patted the bed next to him, and she reluctantly sat down. He put his arms around her and leaned back some. He rocked back and forth and shushed like she was four.

"It's ok," he whispered into her hair. "You've been more than wonderful to me this week, I know how difficult I can be, and you always, not just this week, but since we've worked together, you've always put upwith me. I've said worse to you and not even realized it. You have remorse, and you care. It's ok... It's ok... I...love...you..." he trailed off. She was crying again, in the dark of the little hospital room. And she could feel warm tears on top of her head as well.

"I love you too." she whispered as she fell asleep in his arms, dinner forgotten. She wasn't sure if he had heard, but she hoped he had. She did love him, and she was never going to hurt him again.

**Thanks a ton for reading. Please review, as always, I'm open to suggestions and ant criticism. The next chapter will be up sometime today.**

**Thanks, Amber**


	7. Chapter 7

**This chapter is kind of long. I am extremely tired and really not sure how good it is, but I like it. It's Rose-centric, centering on her past and her ex husband Patrick. Enjoy.**

House woke before the sun, not sure of what had woken him up. Rose was still in his arms, sound asleep. He thought about their argument the night before. She hadn't meant what she had said about Stacy, even if it was true. He had been more terrible to her, even if what he had said had been petty, it was malicious, she was just reacting. He had no reason to say what he did.

He kept thinking, and recalled a few words he had vaguely heard before he fell asleep. He had said he loved her, and it had taken her forever to reply. He assumed she was asleep. But right as he was about to succumb to the darkness of sleep, he thought he had heard her return the phrase. But he couldn't be sure. If she had, if she loved him, he'd be the happiest man on earth.

Still not knowing what had woken him, he remembered that Rose was going to take his stitches out today, the many incisions that had been made to get all the bullet fragments out had healed nicely, and his neck also. He wasn't liking the spiderweb shaped scar that was forming on his abdomen, but-he smiled-Rose wouldn't mind. Besides, from the way she talked about her past, he wouldn't be surprised if she had a few herself.

He could only imagine making love to her. How her skin would feel against his body, how her graceful limbs could bend, how perfect her lips and breasts were, he could only imagine. But that would have to wait. She seemed like the kind of girl—no, woman—who would want to wait. She would want to be in a committed relationship first. She was the kind who took sex as a reward, as something special between two people in love. And, even if he didn't entirely agree, she was the first woman he didn't think he'd mind waiting for.

Rose stirred next to him, and he turned to face her.

"Morning beautiful."

She smiled tiredly, "Mhm, that's real House like." she snuggled into the nape of his neck and sighed, knowing she had to get up and do actual work. She sat up and stretched. House looked at her expectantly.

"You want the stitches out?"

"Yes please!"

"Can I shower first?"

"No."

"Fine, I'll be right back." she left the room presumably to go get a suture kit and some gloves. She wasn't, she was going down to the locker room to shower. House could wait a half an hour.

Upon her return, he looked at her with a fake pouty face.

"What took so long?"

She shook her wet, sweet smelling hair in his face before tying it into a tight bun. "I showered, don't you listen?" she teased affectionately.

He sighed. She put on a pair of gloves and pulled the blankets off him. It only took a few minuted to remove the stitches, he noted. They were good, and held tight, that's why it had hurt so much when he'd popped them a few days ago.

"All done," she declared, cleaning him up and taking off her gloves. You can have a real shower now! Care to? You kinda don't smell too good." she laughed musically.

He smiled. "I don't know if I can do it all by myself yet, care to help doctor?"

She pulled the hair tie that was holding her wet hair out and shook it at him again, "Sorry, I already did, remember?" she teased. "Although, I'm sure Nurse Smith would love to." House shuddered thinking of the stern old woman seeing him naked.

"Oh, no, I got it!" he yelled jumping out of bed and dashing for the bathroom.

Rose smiled to herself, seeing him be able to do something that she took for granted so easily.

"I'll leave a pair of swim trunks!" she hollered, today was going to be their first day of water physio, and she was excited, more so than House.

"Oooh does that mean I get to see you in a swim suit?" he hollered back.

"Yep!" she yelled, having already put one on under her scrubs.

They walked downstairs, where the pool was. It was Olympic sized, and Rose wondered where Cuddy had gotten the money for it. House looked at Rose uncertainly.

"What?" she asked, "Cant you swim?"

"Yes, I can, I'm just, nervous. I've never tried this before, and I don't want it to fail like everything else."

Knowing he didn't really want her to reply, Rose stripped off her scrubs down to a simple yet elegant one piece and dove in the water, swimming all the way to the other side, as gracefully as a fish.

"Come on!" she yelled swimming back to House, "Jump!"

"Is that part of the physio?" he replied

"No silly! But water therapy doesn't require much effort on the PT's part. Jump!"

He did, with an enormous splash, and surfaced sputtering and flailing in the fifteen foot of water. She swam to him quickly and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"First off, stop flailing and relax." he complied, eventually, and she was treading water to support the both of them. "Secondly, you have to hold you breath when you jump."

"Thanks." he replied annoyed.

"No problem, now relax and float." she commanded turning him on his back and slowly releasing her hands. He flailed again, and she grabbed him again, it was like teaching a little kid to swim.

"I thought you could swim!"

"Its... been a while?" he tried.

"Bull, it's like riding a bike, you don't forget it once you learn. Do I have to make you put your face in the water and blow bubbles like a four year old, or do you think you can listen to me?"

"I can listen"

"That'll be a first. Kick your feet like your riding a bike to stay above the water." he did and failed miserably. After a few more tries, she got him doggy paddling as well. They made their way to the shallow end of the pool.

She had him back up to the ledge in the pool and put his arms across it like you would the back of a couch. Then kick his legs up to the surface of the water, and place them back down, all while not bending the knee. She did it all the time, if felt good when her lower back and hips were tight and sore. But it was a workout with resistance for your quadriceps as well. And House was feeling it. He grunted occasionally, and grit his teeth when it started to hurt, but when Rose told him he could stop any time he wanted, he persisted for a good five minutes, before stopping, tuckered out.

The therapy session concluded with 'running' or at least as well as you could in the shallow end of the pool. Clearly over, after both of their legs were tired, Rose poked at House playfully, daring him to grab her. When he tried, she dove and darted away, halfway across the pool by the time he realized where she'd gone. She was like a mermaid or something, he long hair drifting behind her. He marveled at her. She flashed a smile and did a flip in the water, her breasts and ass moving quite temptingly. When she was sure he was mesmerized she dove again and swam right up behind him and surfaced.

"Blahh! What the hell?"

She giggled almost uncontrollably, then dove again, and climbed out at the other end. She did a very graceful swan dive and then surfaced choking on water, because she had still been giggling when she jumped in. He began to chase her around the pool, finding his sea legs, per say.

"Dr. St. John!" another PT with an amputee yelled from the other side of the pool. "Are you finished? I had the hour of 3 to 4, its 5:30!"

"Yes," she glanced at House rebelliously, and swam to the other side of the pool, "Sorry Doctor Adams." she pulled up the ladder and shook her hair out at the top. With a look that would make any man drool, she winked and bent over to dry her feet, her ass in the air, facing him. "It's all yours now."

The patient, who was obviously military, chuckled. She turned around and saluted him as respectfully and whole heartily as all her years as a marine brat had taught her. He returned the salute and she left, House trailing and drooling as much as the other Physio-therapist.

"I was thinking," Rose called from the bathroom in House's room, changing out of her wet swimsuit, "I might actually permit you to work today."

"Wow, how generous!" he yelled back, changing in the room.

"Well unless you don't want to!"

"Oh no no no, I want to!"

"Figured."

They walked out of the hospital room Rose's hand in the crook of House's elbow, which she released before they entered the DDX. House stopped walking when she did.

"What are you doing?"

"Entering this room as a boss."

"Me too, and I don't feel a need to let go of you."

"House..."

"Fine."

Rose immediately regretted letting go of his arm when he smacked her ass as she entered the room. She flipped him off and he put his hands up in the air. Foreman stood frozen at the white board, mouth open. Chase just chuckled and Cameron looked like she wanted to gossip. House sat down in the chair Rose was about to take, and ordered her to get his computer. She was making tea.

"No, get it yourself." normally, she would've gotten it, because he would sit there rubbing his leg and wincing, but after the Ketamine, there was no reason she should feel obligated to stop him from having to walk.

He grumbled and got up to get it. The team just stared. Rose realized they hadn't seen House since he was shot, and even though Wilson had informed them the Ketamine had worked, they couldn't wrap their brains around the thought of House without a limp. She smirked, it _was_ odd.

He noticed, of course, but didn't say anything. The tender and caring House she had grown to love this week was gone with the flip of a switch. She wasn't sure if she liked that, but then realized that the sweetness was reserved just for her. And she smiled and blushed in spite of herself when his hand brushed her neck as he walked past.

The DDX had been awkwardly silent for a good minute and a half now, and Rose finally stood up and went to the board.

"Three year old, female, presenting with rash and fever.."

"Infection." Cameron suggested, bored.

"Nope, family practitioner tested her for that already, and treated with broad spectrum antibiotics to be safe..." she trailed off, scanning the file. The girl's name was Angela McVeigh. The same name of her ex-husbands first wife who'd been murdered. His fiancee was pregnant when Rose had come back from the dead, the girl was the right age... no, she couldn't be. "I'm going to do a physical, just for our own records." Rose muttered and practically ran out of the room. She had to know.

Upon entering the patient room, Patrick, her ex, wasn't there. The girls mother was. She thought she vaguely recognized her, but the only time she'd ever seen her was the night she came home and found them in bed. She hadn't been concentrating on that at the moment. Her world had been thrown upside down by the government. She wasn't angry at Patrick, had no right to be, she was dead in his head.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Rose St. John, Dr. House's diagnostic partner, I'd like to do a basic physical on your daughter for our records. Just to be sure no one missed anything.

The woman stood up and introduced herself as Sarah McVeigh. She said her husband was on a plane right now, he had been working when House accepted her case.

Rose smiled knowingly and walked over to the small child on the bed. She sat down next to her and introduced her self as Rose.

"I Angie!"

"Hello Angie." she smiled thinking of how House would've tried to correct the little girl's grammar.

"I'm going to look at you to see if I can find any thing wrong, I'm a doctor, ok?"

"Ok!" she trilled in a high pitched child's voice. She was a beautiful child, Patrick was lucky if she was right.

"Angie, can you tell me how you feel?"

"Tieward," she answered quietly. "and cowd." she added with a shiver as the stethoscope touched her back.

"I know it's cold, sweetie, take a deep breath." She did, as her mother's phone rang.

"Excuse me." she told Rose

She nodded, acknowledging that she was leaving the room.

When she returned, she said,

"That was my husband, he just landed in Trenton and is taking a train to Princeton."

"That's good," she told the mother, uninterested. She then turned to the girl, "Can I see your back please?"

"Yesh!" Rose smiled at how enthusiastic the little girl was for being so sick.

The rash on her back wasn't in fact a rash. It was a petechial hemorrhage, a bruise.

"I'd like to draw some blood for labs."

"Ok, go ahead." she did and then gave the girl a lollipop. She had barely squealed during the draw, which was surprising for a kid.

Rose walked back into the DDX, still unsure if this was Patrick's family or not. "It's leukemia, the rash isn't a rash, its a bruise. I drew blood, I'm about to take it to the lab."

The blood samples were inconclusive, unfortunately, which meant she was going to have to take a bone marrow sample, something she didn't want to do on a three year old. It was extremely unpleasant, and she would have to take a sample from the girl's hip because she was so small.

When she went back to the patient room, the mother told her that her husband should be there any minute, and asked to wait so Rose could explain what was going on to him before the procedure. Thankful she would finally be able determine if Patrick was involved, she didn't mind waiting. Much to her dismay, a short beautifully blonde man strolled in a few minutes later. The man she'd loved with all her heart. Patrick McVeigh.

When he saw her, he looked surprised, but gave her a warning look saying 'don't mention it'

"Mr. and Mrs. McVeigh, we think your daughter has Leukemia. However, the blood test results were inconclusive, so we need a bone marrow sample. I'd also like to take blood samples from each of you, to see if you'd be a match in case a donor is needed. I do have to warn you, the procedure to take bone marrow is painful. I basically have to insert a very large needle into Angela's hip bone. It wont be pleasant, one of you should be there."

"I'll do it." Patrick interjected immediately.

"Fine."

They were alone in the procedure room, she had decided to give the little girl a local anesthetic for the procedure.

"She's beautiful Patrick."

He blushed, then smiled, fatherly pride dancing across his face, he looked at her lovingly. "Please don't let anything happen to her."

"I'm going to try my best."

"You always did."

"Sarah doesn't know who I am?"

"No."

"And I take it she doesn't know about Angela and Lilian?" referring to his first wife and daughter who'd been murdered,

"How'd you guess?"

"I wouldn't have let my husband name our child after his dead ex-wife."

"Good point. I miss you Rose."

"Patrick, don't start, we've both moved on. There's no need for anything any different."

"I still love you."

"I know."

She finished the procedure and left a nurse to take them back to the room. She went to the DDX to look at the girls blood panel. Her blood type was AB+.

"That's impossible!" Rose exclaimed.

"What is?" House asked, concern in his voice.

"Can I talk to you in private?" she requested of House, he could see she was shaking, extremely concerned, they went into their office.

She fell into a chair and he kneeled down in front of her.

"Whats the matter?"

"Angela's father is my ex-husband."

"That doesn't sound impossible."

"It's not. He's blood type O neg. She's AB+. He's not the father. How can I possibly tell him that?"

"You have to. If it comes to it and he donates blood or marrow or anything, he has to know the chances of it working if he's not related. I'll do it if you want."

Recalling what happened the last time House accused a woman of cheating, she jumped up to go and talk to Patrick.

"Mr. McVeigh, can I talk with you please?"

"Yes, doctor."

"Patrick..." she pulled him down the hall way. "I don't know how to tell you this." she had a file in her hand. "Angela's not your daughter."

"What?" he fell into the chair behind him, she sat down next to him and put her hand on his shoulder. She handed him the file. Her blood type is AB+ your O-. its not genetically possible no matter what Sarah's is..." "I'm sorry." she added in a whisper.

He sat there, in shock. "Sarah couldn't have... oh god Rose."

"Patrick..." she began.

"I want a different doctor."

"Patrick."

"NO! I know this is irrational, I know I've criticized men before for being naïve about their wives, but I can't. Not when Angie's sick and everything. You can't be the only oncologist in this god damned hospital!"

"Ok. I'm not, I'll refer you to Dr. Wilson in the morning. I'm sorry Patrick." she trailed off as she walked away from the love of her life again. She could have used that to get him back, but she didn't. Right now, and for the first time in three years since she'd been forced to leave Patrick, she didn't want to be in his arms. She wanted House.

Rose grabbed the discharge paperwork for House. She wanted him to take her home, she wanted him to tell her it was going to be ok. She wanted him to hold her and rock her to sleep again. She wanted him.

"House, lets go." she said as she stuck her head into the now empty DDX. It was late, the team had gone home, the case was solved.

"Did you tell him?"

"Yes. He requested to be transferred to Wilson."

"Oh."

"I have your discharge papers."

"Oh." he said again, thinking that meant they were going their separate ways.

"Can we go to your place?" she asked defeated. "My apartment was Patrick's at one time too. I just want to get away from that for the night."

"Sure baby." he looked at her lovingly. She was exhausted. He signed the papers and they walked out of the hospital, arms wrapped around each others waists. Right past the clinic, right past the front desk, right past the dean's office. Without a care in the world.

When they got back to House's place. She didn't even care about the mess or the Vicodin laying everywhere, she just collapsed on the nearest soft thing. The couch.

"You cant sleep here."

"Why not?" Rose murmured, already dozing.

Knowing that it was senseless to argue, House pulled her coat and shoes off and scooped her up in his arms. She cuddled against his chest. He put her down gently on the bed and undressed himself. Then layed down next to her and pulled her close.

She whispered "I love you, " into his chest, and fell asleep. And this time, he was sure he heard it, and she meant it.

"I love you too." he returned as he pulled her even tighter to his body. She was his life line, the best thing that ever happened to him. And he was never letting her go, he was never going to let anyone hurt her like her ex had tonight. He kissed the top of her head and let his lips linger as he fell asleep too.

**Thanks for reading, please review.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello again, sorry I didn't update last night like I promised. This is probably my favorite chapter so far, so please please please tell me what you think.**

It had been almost a month since House's discharge. Wilson was handling the Angela McVeigh case, but Rose had told him to keep her _out_ of the loop, so she didn't know what was happening, and didn't want to. Every morning, House would go for a run, he loved to run. Rose rarely went with him, he was over a foot taller than she, and frankly, she couldn't keep up with him. Each night after work before supper, they'd go swimming. His leg was stronger than it had been in a long time, and he was loving it. So was Rose. He was happier. And not that she wouldn't love him if he wasn't, but when he was happy, she was too.

This morning however, he hadn't gone for a run, and he was sulky. Immediately, she noticed something was wrong.

"House, are you ok?"

"Hm? Ya fine, why do you ask?"

"You didn't go for a run, and your sulking."

Damn it, he thought, she noticed. Of course she had. She always did. It was what he loved most about her. He never had to tell her what was wrong, she just knew, and was always there for him.

"I'm fine."

Rose wanted to protest, but she knew better, and left it alone.

When they got to work, Rose purposely forgot her phone in the car, and told House to go ahead. She wanted to walk behind him, wanted to watch his gate. He was limping. Ever so slightly, almost unnoticeable, but he was definitely limping. She swore under her breath. He had been doing so good. She couldn't imagine what the Ketamine wearing off would do to him. The pain would be lessened by the built up muscle, but once he stopped being able to exercise it, the muscle would waste again. The Ketamine would fail, so he would refuse to have a second treatment. He'd go back on Vicodin. Oh god, she thought, _Vicodin_.

She watched him intently all day, as did the team, who'd clued into his pain as fast as Rose had. Throughout the day, he got progressively worse. He was back to rubbing his leg, the limp got more defined as the day went on. Normally, Rose would've taken over the board, she would've taken considerations toward the fact that House was having a bad day. Today she didn't. She made him go through the day as if she were oblivious. She was testing her theory. The team played along.

Wilson noticed, and cornered Rose in the cafeteria at lunch.

"He's limping!" Wilson hissed, keeping an eye out for House.

"You think I hadn't noticed?" Rose hissed back. "I'll deal with it, got it?"

Wilson nodded and the two went to sit at their regular table. House joined them seconds later, sliding in next to Rose and kissing her cheek.

"Hey babe," she greeted. It was routine.

"Hey." he breathed into her ear.

They ate lunch, and Rose went downstairs to catch up on some clinic duty. They'd solved this week's case already, and House was avoiding Cuddy somewhere.

Five came around, and Rose went upstairs to get her things from the office. House wasn't there, and neither was his stuff. She went out to where he'd parked the car this morning. It was cold and snowing. The car was iced over, it hadn't been moved all day. She went back inside and checked with Wilson. He hadn't seen House. She finally decided to just go down to the pool, maybe he was already there. He wasn't

Getting worried, she called his phone. He didn't pick up, but she heard a faint ring in the distance. She wandered the halls of the PT wing, until she heard a single treadmill running in the dark. She entered the room.

House was running on a treadmill, sweat was pouring down his face. His breathing was abnormal and she could see his leg threatening to spasm under him. He pushed up on the grab bars of the treadmill and got off, panting and rubbing his leg. He took a few Vicodin, and got back on. This repeated two or three times until Rose couldn't bare to watch any more. House was on the ground, his leg spasming, he was choking on his own air, grasping his leg for dear life. She entered silently. He avoided her gaze. He was about to take another pill when she took the bottle from his hand. He looked at her now.

Rose sat on the floor next to him and pulled him close to her.  
"Oh baby..." she murmured. House... it's ok"  
He jumped up onto his bad leg only to fall back into her arms when it buckled under him.  
"NO IT'S NOT" he screamed in her face, biting back tears. Painful tears, angry tears, tears of shame. "I, I worked so hard... I... Rose..."  
"Shhhhh, House, it's ok. You'll get through the pain, we'll get through it."  
"It's not just that. Pain I can deal with, weakness I can deal with, but you... You're so strong, and I... I want to live up to that, so bad. But...I tried. I can't I'm sorry."  
"House... Do you think I'm that vain? That I only agreed to date you because you could walk? House, _I. Love. You._" she accented each word. "I couldn't care less what physical ability you have. I love your mind, your heart, your bright eyes and your piano fingers. I love the way you love _me_. I don't care about limps or canes or..." she hesitated thinking how much she hated the Vicodin, " or anything. _I. Love. You_." she repeated, looking into his eyes. They were filled with pain, but behind that was relief. He knew she could see it too, and turned away from her again.

"You're relieved I love you? House, what have you ever done that's so terrible that you think you don't deserve to be loved; that you deserve to suffer so much? You are _the_ best man I have ever met, I don't know what I'd do without you."

He smiled slightly, despite the pain he was obviously feeling. Smiled at how silly her needing him sounded. He was the most dependent person in the world, whether he tried to be or not. But she didn't mind. She was like Wilson in that way, she was attracted to his neediness, but she wasn't annoying about it like Wilson. She just fit. Where he lacked strength, she had it, and she supported him. Both physically and emotionally. She didn't have to ask, she didn't look down at him like he was a disappointment when he was in pain, she just knew, and she made up for it. She really was perfect, no matter how many imperfections she thought she had. He was the screwed up one, and she still manged to love him. He didn't know how she managed it, yet he didn't know why he discredited himself her love, either. House relaxed as all the things she told him sunk in, he layed his head against her chest. She rocked gently back and forth.

Time passed. It could've been two minutes, or two hours. Neither was sure. Rose was still holding House tightly.

"I love you too." he murmured. She gave him a squeeze. More time passed. Eventually, she stood up and offered House a hand. He took it, got about halfway up, and fell back down again. She tried again, this time slipping under his arms when she got the chance. They walked out of the hospital like that. Through the halls, through the lobby. It was late, the hospital was practically empty. Rose was horridly aware of how much House was leaning on her, how much he was limping. How badly he'd deteriorated in a day. God, she thought, he had so many more options. He shouldn't be able to walk, not with that much muscle missing. He could use a wheel chair. He could use crutches, something, anything. She'd love him all the same. Wilson and the team's opinions wouldn't change. But he was so stubborn. She wondered; was the pain worth it?

On the drive home, her mind wandered to the only thing she had doubted when she was telling him she loved him. The Vicodin. He said it was the only thing that helped the pain and didn't dull his mind. But how much could it possibly help? With the pain he was still in, it couldn't possibly be that effective. No, she realized, how well does it really work isn't the question. How much worse could it get is what she should be asking. She absolutely one-hundred percent hated,_hated_, his drug use. He wasn't just dependent, he was addicted. He would do anything to get the drugs, he'd take more than the max dose, but he was careful. The way he did it, convinced himself he didn't have a problem. He'd never overdose, he was careful to build it up, he was too smart to get caught for it too. It would take something horrible to convince him to get off it, or at least dial it back. She'd never be able to convince him, not without threatening to leave him first, and she could never bring herself to do that.

They entered her apartment, House still leaning on Rose for support. She got him to the couch, and went to make something to eat.

"Damn it!"

"Whats the matter?" Rose shouted from the kitchen.

"Nothing..."

She got down off the counter she had been standing on to reach a pot, and walked into the living room. "Yes there is." she accused, relieved that he wasn't on the floor or something of the like.

"I don't have a cane here."

"I'll run and get one from your place." she said before thinking about it. He cringed at the word 'run'.

"Are you sure? I can just get it before work tomorrow."

"I'm sure, I'll go now, your apartment's only a few minute's drive, then I'll cook dinner."  
She left, car keys in hand. Upon arriving at his apartment, she realized she didn't have a key. She almost thought about swearing, and then giggled. She always had a small pick set somewhere. She dug to the bottom of her purse and drew out the set. She picked the lock in a matter of seconds and went inside. She knew the canes would be in the hall closet. She opened it, and gasped. In the midst of coats and other random closet crap, were a set of golf clubs, lacrosse sticks, running shoes, soccer cleats, and other various sports equipment. Why did he torture himself like this? She grabbed a cane out of the golf bag, and went to leave. At the door, she turned around and went back. She took a change of clothes for him, and his acoustic guitar. It was beautiful, and she loved to watch him play.

He smiled when she got back and handed it to him, he began to strum and tune immediately. When he was satisfied, he played a simple tune.

"Your sharp!" she shouted from the kitchen.

"Thanks. Why don't you play more?"

"You mean why don't I randomly sit around and play sax at work? Gee, I don't know!"  
"But you never play in front of me."

"Because I like to marvel at how good you are."

"Oh come one..."

"House!" she exclaimed her head popping around the corner, "You're brilliant, a savant! My god I'm mesmerized by those hands dancing across piano keys, or guitar strings for that matter. I don't play because you're better!" House blushed and Rose giggled.

He began strumming a little chorus tune, then went to her little upright and played Louis Armstrong's What a Wonderful World. Rose subconsciously sang.

"I see trees of green, red roses too...and I think to myself what a wonderful world...skies of blue, clouds of white...and I think to myself what a wonderful world." when she finished, House stopped playing and limped into the kitchen. He just beamed at her. She looked back at him, questioningly.

"That was beautiful," he said still beaming, "and I'm too impressive to stand up to."

She blushed, and he started singing the same song, in a rich tenor. She rolled her eyes and shook her head as she carried their supper out to the table. She had thrown together some simple baked chicken and rice, with a salad. But still House ate like he didn't know when he'd see his next meal. She supposed in the years between Stacy and herself, he probably could count the number of home cooked meals he'd had on one hand. She laughed at his pig like manner. Some people took that as rude, but an Italian took it as a compliment. Eating fast with out talking meant it was good food.

When dinner was finished, House actually helped with the dishes for once. They harmonized together as she washed. When they finished, they cuddled on the couch watching some stupid soap. Rose wasn't paying attention. She was concentrating on him. On how he loved her, on every inch of his body. How she fit into the curves of him. And how he held her tight, like a lifeline. She loved how he smelt, how he felt, how he respected her. She felt like the only woman in the world right now. In that moment, she knew she would never let him be in pain like he had suffered tonight again, not when it was caused more by emotional pain than anything, and she knew she was never going to leave his side, was never going to hurt him, and wanted to be with him, weak or strong, _forever_.

**Ok! there was another deep conversation/ confession scene for you. I love to write them, it's basically adding in what another person might say or do in some of those stomach churning scenes from the show. Hope you enjoyed,**

**Thanks, Amber**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry I have not updated in so long, life has been hectic. This chapter is just a bridge to the detox, which I had to rewrite three times. Please read and review**

Rose woke up considerably earlier than House. She always did, but usually just milled around until he got up. Today she had an agenda. She got dressed swiftly and silently, ninja assassin skills in high gear. She laughed when she thought of that. Then frowned at how gruesomely true it really was. She left her apartment, House still an hour from waking up, and drove to his. She sat on the couch and closed her eyes, remembering every time she had been there before the Ketamine.  
She recalled every time she'd brought dinner for him, or him and Wilson. Every beer they'd shared for solving a particularly difficult case, every time she'd tried to get him to do some paperwork. And especially every time he'd begrudgingly called her when he needed help with the pain.  
She pictured every pill and injection he took. Every place he'd fetched meds from, or had her do so for him. Starting with the morphine on the bookshelf, and ending with the Vicodin behind the bath room mirror, she tore the place apart looking for his stash.  
What frightened her, was that it wasn't just a supply, or a stash. It was a hoard. He had squirreled Vicodin away for what seemed like years, not because he needed it all, but because he was _afraid_, of the pain. She counted thirty eight bottles in total, each with varying degrees of being full. There was enough pills here to stock a pharmacy for a month, assuming Gregory House didn't fill his prescriptions there. She hadn't expected this much medication. She figured two or three vials at the most, she could just throw them out. But what the hell are you supposed to do with this much? Stashing the pills in her trunk, she drove into work, telling House she'd been there early.

When he was having his idiot confrontation with the patient later that day, Rose dug through his desk and found all his scripts. Both signed by real doctors and not. She shredded each and every one of them.

Rose understood House was in pain, that he really did need the drugs, but there is a fine line between dependency and addiction. House had crossed it. She knew it was going to be a hard detox, she'd seen it on a bet once before, but she knew going through that, he wouldn't have a choice but to listen to her. She wasn't trying to get him to quit cold turkey, although it would've been nice. She simply wanted him to be responsible about it.

She wrote a script for him, for the Vicodin with a special note on it. No pharmacist anywhere would be able to fill the script without her signature and identification, in person, each and every time. And she would be alerted if one did. This meant that House wouldn't be able to have the prescription filled without her permission. A bottle of Vicodin was supposed to last a month, give or take, and he would have to go that long if he wanted the supply. If he couldn't stretch the dosage right, then he'd have to go the length of time he ran out of pills for, without them. She didn't sign the script, not yet, not until she talked to him about it. She had already discussed this with Wilson, who agreed it was the right path, and wished he'd had the balls to do it long ago. House was no where to be found, and he had already solved the case, so she went to do some psychiatry rounds downstairs.

When she came back into their office, he was alone, and jumped up to face her like he was hiding something when she walked in. She looked at him quizzicaly, an he blushed. _Blushed. _'what the hell?' she thought. She made a point to watch the rest of the day.

He had a bottle of pills on him, she knew, so she wasn't expecting anything from him until he finished it off. Throughout the day, he had kept looking over his shoulder, and not the side she usually walked on. He used a blue tooth for a while, which was terrible strange, and she even caught him talking to himself. She thought about it for a while, and came to a startling conclusion. House was hallucinating.

She ran up behind him in the hallway. "You're hallucinating." she accused.

"Wha...no...noo... I'm not." He managed to spit out.

"Hey Wilson!" she shouted at him down the hall way. It was like threatening to tell his mommy.

"Rose!" he warned and snatched her elbow, pulling her behind the stair well.

"What!?" she snapped. "How much, House?"

"Huh?"

"How much V_icodin?_" she hissed. She was positive she had cleared the stash at home, but she didn't know exactly how much she had on him.

"No more than usual I don't think."

"And did it ever occur to you that 'usual' is too much? That it's destroying your kidneys and know its finally reached a point of no return?"

"I'm not hallucinating because of the pills."

"So you are hallucinating?"

"What no..." he dropped off, knowing he'd just fallen for the oldest trick in the book. Rose yanked him into an exam room, and drew blood before he could speak again.

"Do a lumbar puncture."

"Why?"

"Could be MS or an infection."

She touched his forehead. "No fever, no infection. Something tells me you don't have MS."

"Just do it."

"Fine." she got the kit from the supply cart and told him to curl in a ball, he did, stiffly and painfully. She didn't make a point to be gentle with the needle. "Don't get up unless you want a massive headache. I'll go test this now."

A few hours later, it was clear that there was no infection, nor MS, or anything else, except for opioid levels through the roof. She went back and told House so. House just looked at her. He knew that meant detox, and he was terrified. Terrified of the detox, terrified of the pain he would be in without the drugs. Terrified. She looked back, and put her hand on his shoulder. He still didn't know she had cleared out the pills, and she wasn't about to tell him. She certainly wasn't going to offer to be there for the detox either, if he really wanted her to be, he'd have to ask. "I'll go arrange a bed and some fluids."

"No."

"Uh... yes, House, you have to detox."

"No, the people here don't know me, they don't know how to handle it, you...you do."

She gave him a quick kiss. "Ok." she held her hand out, and he begrudgingly handed over his last bottle of Vicodin, although he didn't know it yet.

When they got home, she started to cook dinner, and House was rummaging through his apartment, looking for pills most likely, he was already starting to feel the withdrawal. Rose heard him come up behind her, but didn't acknowledge it.

"You manipulative bitch."

"Love you too hon." she replied sarcastically.

"You already cleared the place!" he began to yell and get angry. "YOU WERE GOING TO MAKE ME DETOX."

Rose turned around to face him, she was pinned against the small kitchen counter, and he was towering over her, yet, she knew her strength, and wasn't terrified in the least.

"Looks like it's starting." Rose observed, almost taunting House with the fact of it. He snarled at her, and took a step back, releasing her from the pin on the counter. She smirked at the fact that he thought he had control of the situation. She finished dinner, but House didn't eat much, he knew he'd throw it up later anyhow.

**Okay, just a bridging chapter, but the detox will be up tonight. Let me know what you think!**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: DETOX! I am so terribly self conscious about this chapter, I rewrote it three times! So please read and enjoy, and let me know what you think. **

Rose sat next to House on the couch, she had one arm around his sagging shoulders, the other hand he was clinging to for dear life. His head was on the back of the couch, and his eyes red rimmed and bloodshot. He shook and sweated as if fighting for his life.

Rose pulled her knees up onto the couch and turned around so her back was against one arm. House followed, gasping as every movement made his leg scream at him. He laid his head on her chest, for once not even thinking about her breasts. She ran her hands through his sweaty hair and murmured nondescript comforts and niceties. House had long since ceased throwing up the dinner she had cooked what seemed like ages ago, and she could tell he was developing a fever. She slid out from under his as gently as possible, laying his head on the arm of the couch, and went for some ice. He snatched her hand.

"Don't go." he whispered.

"I'm not going anywhere, just getting some ice."

He dropped her hand, and she returned shortly with a wet towel to place over his eyes and some ice wrapped in a bandana, which she tied around his elbow. He tried to relax, still groaning and panting.

"ROSE!" House gasped out after hours of painful silence.

She put down her book and craned her neck around his shoulders to see his leg visibly spasm through his pant leg. He let out the kind of scream that could wake the dead, and curled into a ball. She was at his side immediately with a bucket that he heaved into.

Rose placed her hands on his thigh, and his clouded eyes looked at her in horror. He nodded slightly, and she got to work. She let her extensive training take over, and became acutely aware of what was happening beneath her fingers. He cringed harder, and gasped louder the more pressure she applied, until the muscle finally, finally released. She was kneeling on the floor, and he collapsed into her arms. She hauled his poor shaking body back onto the couch, and he gasped and fought for air in her arms once again.

Hours passed. House was still laying helplessly on the couch, muttering about Vicodin and wishing, begging for relief. She crooned to him, her voice full of sympathy, pity, a voice he would normally have hated. She replenished the damp cloth and ice that had long since depleted, and he managed to fall into a fitful sleep.

The next morning, Rose, pinned under House's finally fully relaxed body, debated with herself. She knew what happened when he woke up to find himself alone, but she also knew he'd want coffee and a shower when he woke up. So, she slid out from under him and put a pot on. While it was brewing, she went into the bedroom to change. She peeled the clothes she was wearing off, realizing with disgust that the sweaty slime that had formed on them didn't belong to her. She shook out her messy, hip-length hair, and tied it up quickly. She heard House stir in the other room, and slipped into an old pair of jeans and one of his t shirts. She wanted a shower herself, but House wouldn't be strong enough to stand on his own, and there was no sense in getting wet twice.

"Rose?" House groaned from the other room, he had twisted around and sat up. Rose slipped under his extended arm and handed him a cup of steaming coffee. He took a scalding sip and smiled weakly.

"Thank you." he whispered almost inaudibly after drinking it. To an outsider, it might have appeared that he was thanking her for the drink, but she knew that these words that were so hard for him to say, meant for everything. For not abandoning him when he suffered, for loving him, everything. He pulled her close to his chest, and rested his chin on her head. A shuddering breath escaped his lips, and tightened his grip on her a little tighter. And, for the first moment of true sobriety since they met, House realized he never, ever, wanted to let her go.

**A/N: *deep breath* okay, phew. Let me know what you think, and ideas for the next chapter, because I am soooo stuck! Thanks a ton,**

**A. Sangiovanni**


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi there! Amber here! I know it's been forever and hopefully some of you were still hoping I'd update rather than just leave it as is. So, here's the update. I can't tell you much, so as not to ruin it, but please Read and Review!**

There was no hiding the hard night House had had when he and Rose got to work the next day. He had aged five years in twenty-four hours. The pain lines on his face were deeper, his hair a little more grey, his limp more pronounced by threefold. He was having a hard time staying on his feet. He was favoring Rose's hip for balance more so than ever, clinging to her elbow when they walked, like a lifeline. The team noticed, said nothing, but noticed.

The pain increased with the passing days, weeks, months. Every day Rose could see the hunger for drugs in House's eyes, and every day she'd give him a warning look and he'd just nod. He knew that this was what she wanted. He knew that he'd lose her if he got back on the drugs, lose her like he'd lost every other thing he'd ever loved.

As much as everyday was a struggle, nights were worse. It hurt terribly to walk and move House's leg, but laying still for more than an hour hurt worse. So sleep, what little he managed to get with the pain, was pure hell. Rose was always there to help, as she had been that night she vaulted the bookcase for morphine. With the exception of one thing: the morphine. Some nights there was nothing to do but rub his back while he dry heaved and cried. Tonight was one of those nights, but tonight, Rose wanted to do something more than be helpless.

Rose was sleeping, and, as always her federal agent spidey senses were in high gear. The slightest movement or sound out of place would've woken her, let alone the bed bouncing from House sitting bolt upright, and his muffled screams into his arms. House, as always had tried not to wake her, but that was a foolish and time wasting nicety.

Rose bolted up just as fast as House had, and put her arms around him immediately. Being a doctor, no matter how stupid she thought it was personally, she instinctively asked, "Pain level?"

An alarm went off in House's head. That was a generic question, he knew, and he was fine to answer it when his pain was an 8 or below: manageable in his head. At a 9 he was reluctant, but a 10... a 10 meant he was weak meant he couldn't handle it. House never saw how strong he was, only how much stronger he could and should be.

"House!" Rose yelled, "You know I need a pain reading before I can do anything!"

"Fine!" He hollered back, through gritted teeth. "TEN!"

_Oh god.._. Rose thought, _How do I manage a 10 without drugs? At this point he should be sedated. Or have passed out. _Rose took a deep breath.

"Okay House, I need you to lay back and try to relax." He gulped, and tried to comply. Rose's hands went to work immediately massaging and rubbing his mangled thigh, she was perfectly aware of everything happening under her fingertips, and was shocked at how tight the muscle was cramping, and spasming to boot. She worked for a solid hour, each time she thought she was close and backed off a bit, the mangled quadricep held tight to its guns and kept cramping. After the hour was over, the muscle finally released, and House's body, which had long since passed out into oblivion relaxed entirely as well. He was drenched in more sweat than he had been during the detox, and she knew the whole time he was on the brink of cardiac arrest,which explained why he'd passed out. Rose, less experienced in the area of House's pain than Wilson, called his office.

Not surprisingly, he was still there, even at 10 at night, working on a stack of terminal cases. "Wilson" he answered simply.

"Hey... I uh..."

"What happened?!" Wilson exclaimed, knowing Rose being hesitant had something to do with House. "Do you need help?"

"No, not directly," Rose answered, "He hit a 10 Wilson, a bad 10. It started at quarter to nine, I finished working on it two minutes ago."

"But its ten o'clock!"

"I know. He passed out about halfway through, I monitored his heart rate the whole time though. He was close, but not close enough to call 911."

"You aught to get him to the hospital before he wakes up to object."

"I was planning on it, meet me by the entrance and we can figure out where to go from here."

"Will do, see you soon" Wilson said as he hung up. He placed his head in his hands. For the seven years since House had his infarction, he hit a 10 twice. Once when he woke up, and the second when Stacy left. And the spasms never lasted more than half an hour tops. This wasnt just attributed to the lack of pain medication. The vicodin didn't stop the muscle from cramping, only helped House ride it out. Something else was going wrong. His leg never got that bad, and he had been on it less than normal. Not little enough for it to atrophy though... was it?

Wilson then went down to the ambulance receiving to meet House and Rose, only to be greeted by Rose shouting, not frantically, but giving orders. He turned the corner to see a man with a gun holding a nurse in front of him, gun to her head. The man then turned to the side, and Wilson saw what he'd only ever seen in bad movies, a bomb vest.

**Well, thats certainly not very nice leaving it hanging like that! But I needed something more to elaborate on being that I was running out of steam. I'll update soon, I promise! Leave a review! **


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